Mad Man in a Box
by The Raggedy Doctor
Summary: Amy's first trip in the TARDIS, set just after The Eleventh Hour.


A time machine. A real time machine.

For as long as Amy could remember, she'd dreamed of this day. Inside, her eight year old self was screaming with joy as she steadied herself on a nearby railing. She tried to hide a burning smile. Her ears ached at the cacophony of sound. The engine screamed. Sparks flew from the console. The whole giant room rocked back and forth violently. It was so dangerous and she loved every second.

It's bigger on the inside. She smiled and wondered how many times he had heard the words. She doubted she was the first traveller but a small part of her hoped she was. Lost in her thoughts, the next lurch nearly knocked her off her feet.

"Mind yourself!"

The pilot of this vessel was just as interesting as the ship itself. He looked the exact same as he had fourteen years ago with his floppy hair and a prominent nose. She estimated he was somewhere near her age, not much older. Of course, he wasn't 'most people' was he? Looks were probably deceiving with this mad man. His face was contorted in glee; eyes scrunched up; all his teeth on show as he embraced the chaos of travel – throwing himself in the direction his time machine rocked and whooping.

"Brilliant, fantastic!" he cried as he turned what appeared to be a tap.

The engine throbbed and hummed like some giant breathing. The man, the impossible man, hammered something into the archaic typewriter. This was not something from science-fiction. The controls were a collection of everyday objects, haphazardly arranged in some order which only the Doctor understood.

"Where do you want to go?" he called over the engine roar.

She froze. He had offered to take her anywhere, any_time._ When given such a broad question, what are you supposed to answer?

"Where are we now?" she asked.

The Doctor fell backwards, grabbing onto the railing. His smile grew wider, if possible.

"We could be in ancient Pompeii," he suggested, eyebrows dancing as he spoke. "Or we could be in the fifty-first century." When she frowned, he elaborated. "Right now, we don't exist anywhere. We're in the time vortex, just floating."

The whole room shook side-to-side.

"Well, perhaps floating is the wrong adjective." said the Doctor.

He launched himself enthusiastically at the control panel and flicked a dial and pulled a ream of paper from nowhere. "We've just jumped from Victorian Britain to the Moon in the twenty-second century." he said, before promptly scrunching the paper in his hand and tossing it haphazardly behind him. "Right," he flicked a switch and the whole room span dizzily. "When you want to stop, press that red button there."

He pointed with a long, bony finger. She raised an eyebrow. Three red buttons were clustered where he was pointing.

"Which one?" she asked apprehensively.

"Pick one. One stops us. Another will cause the TARDIS to implode," explained the Doctor, noting her bemusement and beaming. "And the other will turn off the lights. So choose wisely."

Her face dropped. Was he mad? She could potentially kill them with a button. While the room held steady, she made her way to the console, biting her lip.

"Pick one?" she repeated.

He nodded.

Her heart was in her throat as she brought her index finger down on the middle one. The whole room lurched to the left and she fell flat on her face.

"The future," announced the Doctor. "The far distant future."

"Where exactly have we stopped?" she asked as she picked herself up off the floor and brushed dust from her dressing gown.

"Look outside." said the Doctor, pointing his screwdriver at the doors. With a buzz, they opened.

Amy made her way down the stairs, her slipper-bound footsteps loud in the sudden silence. She looked over her shoulder for reassurance.

"Go on, look." he insisted.

Outside was space. Empty, beautiful space. The velvety blackness dotted with the white light of far-away suns. There were streaks of orange and purple creating a canvas before her.

"I thought space was a vacuum."

"The TARDIS protects us. You won't be sucked out."

The silence was deafening, pressing on her ears.

"It's amazing." she breathed. She turned to find the Doctor right behind her, still smiling. Did that smile ever falter, she wondered?

"Were you lying about those buttons?" she queried. "Could we really have exploded?"

"Oh yes," the smile fell. His pallor was suddenly deathly serious. "We've eliminated one button. Next time it's 50/50. But it's all part of the fun, right?" The smile was back.

She returned the smile. "Right."

He was right. He was just a mad man in a box.


End file.
